


I Choose You Again and Again and Again

by QuickSilverFox3



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Aromantic Jango Fett, Asexual Aromantic Jango Fett, Asexual Jango Fett, Gen, Happy Ending, Implied Future Din Djarin/Boba Fett, Jangobi Week (Star Wars), Jangobi Week 2021, M/M, Mand'alor Jaster Mereel, Marriage of Convenience, Parental Jaster Mereel, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29263251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickSilverFox3/pseuds/QuickSilverFox3
Summary: “Come on.” Jango carefully balanced Boba on his hip as he stood, striding towards the door back into the compound. “There should be some food left, and I can't be absent from my own wedding planning.”-Jango enters into a marriage of convenience in a world full of soulmates that he does not have or want. It works out better than expected.[Jangobi Week 2021 Prompt #7 Happy Ending]
Relationships: Boba Fett & Jango Fett, Jango Fett & Jaster Mereel, Jango Fett & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 11
Kudos: 313
Collections: Jangobi Week





	I Choose You Again and Again and Again

**Author's Note:**

> Diverges from canon at the Battle of Koncorda Six. Jaster survives and remained as Mand’alor, Jango was still captured by slavers around this time and was rescued by an undercover Obi-Wan.

Jango swung his legs out into the void off the edge of the metal platform, whistling the fragmented tune of ‘Vode An’ and punctuating the missing drum beats by throwing scraps of rock to the rich desert floor, far below. He wasn’t sulking. He had made sure to communicate that to his buir when he left the meeting room, vibrating with barely concealed anger until the holo-call ended, and then he was gone.

The door hadn't slammed behind him when he left, instead, it closed with a groaning hiss as rusted metal jammed and stuck once more. Jango knew he would fix it once more on his return, could already smell the sharp bite of the oil that would cover his hands and his arms, but for now, he would sit, and taste the rising heat in the back of his throat.

“Buir!”

The sound of Boba’s feet rang out as he charged across the platform, sand crunching with every step before he stopped, dropping to sit next to Jango. Even in the depth of his dark self-inflicted and nurtured fury, Jango couldn't deny Boba anything and wrapped an arm around his son.

“Can you read it?”

Jango glanced down, already knowing what he was going to see: Boba’s arm outstretched expectantly, the customary leather cuff off and held tight in his clenched fist revealing the words stamped onto his skin. They could have passed as a tattoo — and that was a common trick amongst dedicated con-artists and holo-novellas that needed a new plotline — but everyone knew better.

On Boba’s arm, were the first words his romantic soulmate would ever say to him. Jango felt a flicker of relief that — if his son was going to want the words reading out to him time and time again, reassuring himself that they were there — Boba’s soulmate spoke an archaic variant of Basic Jango could at least read.

“Are you a Jedi?” Jango read, catching Boba’s delighted grin out of the corner of his eye, so like his own, and the boy’s feet swung out further. “What sort of bantha osik are you going to get into in the future so your soulmate asks that?”

Jango ruffled Boba’s hair, the boy making a half-hearted attempt to bat his hands away although his grin never faded. They settled back into an easy silence, staring out over the ever-shifting sand before Boba spoke up.

It sounded like the words had been brewing inside him for a while, like a gathering storm, his voice calm and steady as he spoke even as he glanced up at Jango, trying to read his reaction after every word. “Is that why you’re so mad at ba’buir? Because you don't have words.”

Jango felt his face slip into the careful blankness he had cultivated over the years as his mind raced, trying to come up with the right words. He had thought, foolishly in retrospect, that he would have more time before this conversation. But Boba was his son after all, adopted in every way, Mandalorian and not, that Jango could find following the death of his sister shortly after giving birth to him.

He noticed everything. Of course, Boba saw the clear unmarked skin on Jango’s forearms, uncovered and displayed as a warning alongside the grin — all teeth and discernible even from behind his buy’ce — when everyone else he knew wore the leather cuffs, even if it was only for privacy.

“No, Bob’ika, it's not that, ” Jango sighed, running a hand over his curls that were permanently flattened from his helmet. “I don't feel love in that way, romantically. I never have and I doubt I ever will, so I don't have a romantic soulmate.”

Boba’s hands were warm on his arm, tugging it further down his shoulders so he could press a careful touch into the blank stretch between Jango’s elbow and his wrist. “Do you love me?”

“Of course.” Jango dragged his son onto his lap, kissing the top of his head roughly before hugging him close as if that one action would be enough to wipe away any lingering worries the child would hold. “And I love my buir, and Myles, and our people. That’s why I’ll go through with the plan.”

Jango huffed out a laugh into Boba’s hair, gently rocking them both as he did so. “Just needed some time first.”

“Ba’buir said you needed to go and be dramatic for a bit, ” Boba reported, the mask of childlike innocence he strived for broken when he collapsed into laughter at Jango’s growl, low in his throat.

“Come on.” Jango carefully balanced Boba on his hip as he stood, striding towards the door back into the compound. “There should be some food left, and I can't be absent from my own wedding planning.”

⁂

Jango was a prince of Mandalore, the adopted ade of Mand’alor Jaster Mereel, but that didn't stop his father from smacking him chidingly across the back of his head the moment they began to walk through the twisting corridors towards the landing pad.

He yelped, the noise aimed to be reproachful more than any actual pain. “What was that for?”

“You’re getting married for an alliance, a needed and required partnership.” Jaster’s voice was soft, almost regretful at what needed to be done, what they both knew was needed for their continued survival. “I wish this wasn't the way but—”

“I will do whatever is necessary so our people survive, ” Jango interjected, scratching at the sore spot on the back of his head. “Don't worry, buir. I’ll be fine.”

Jango was an accomplished liar, but he couldn't help the prick of fury in his chest or the sorrow that had settled over his shoulders. Jaster cupped his face, using that movement to press their foreheads together.

“Mando'ad draar digu, ” Jaster whispered, “We won’t forget them. Ever.”

“I know.” Jango pressed into the embrace, smelling the spices that clung to them both, the heat of the early morning air. The moment passed quicker than either of them would have liked, and Jango ducked his head to inspect his helmet clasped beneath his arm as the lingering warmth of his father’s touch faded. “Who is this Jedi they’re offering up as a sacrifice? Are they hoping I’ll finish what the universe couldn’t and finish him off?”

“They didn't want to send him, ” Jaster said, a barely hidden note of curiosity rattling through his voice, and Jango rolled his eyes at his father’s renewed academic curiosity. “They turned like rabid dogs on the man who suggested it, but the man himself was willing and if that turns out false,” Jaster shrugged, settling his hand on the Darksaber at his hip, “We are Mandalorian, after all.”

“Thank you, buir.”

They didn't speak as they approached the final door between them and the Jedi, that air seeming charged with anticipation and dread. They could both only hope that there wasn't too much bad blood between their people for this plan to work and plan as if it wouldn't.

Outside, the sun burned low in the sky, casting long shadows across the landing pad and stretching out the small escort group’s shadows into something grotesque. Jango’s face was bare, and he caught the slight shudders as they neared the group and their eyes drifted down to his uncovered arm. Good. Best find out if his new husband had any problems with him now, rather than after having to sit through another tedious dinner.

“Oh!” The voice was familiar, the accent clipped at the edges, and Jango felt a frown flicker over his face before he wiped it away, staring into the slight gloom at the centre of the group. “If we are laying all our cards on the table—”

The man who stepped forward was nearly a decade older than he had been when Jango had last seen him: the fire in his bright blue eyes tempered, but not extinguished; while his smile, all smug satisfaction, remained the same. He pulled up his robe sleeve, amidst a hissing chorus from his escort — faceless and unimportant, to reveal his own words.

They were twisted and black, barely legible anymore, a sign of rejection of the worst sort, and Jango couldn't help the pang of sympathy that shot through his chest like a physical wound.

“Regardless,” Obi-Wan continued, his voice bright and a gentle smile on his face even as he stood in the morning sun with his greatest shame revealed, “It is lovely to see you again, Jango. It’s been a while.”

⁂

“Did you know? Before you agreed?”

It had proven to be remarkably challenging to get Obi-Wan alone. Jango hadn't had such a chase in several years and felt his old bounty hunter instincts flow back through him, the thrill of the hunt crackling through his veins. Throughout the entire evening, Obi-Wan had seemed to be just out of sight, slipping through his grasp the moment Jango drew near enough to smell the faint sweetness from the tea he remembered Obi-Wan favoured.

As the night drew to a close, Jango pounced, bundling the lighter taller man into an alcove in one of the gardens. The flower petals gleamed in the moonlight, filling the air with a gently spiced perfume.

“No.” Obi-Wan gave no indication that the proximity bothered him in any way, smiling blandly down at Jango, but he could see the hint of teeth behind it. “This isn't a plot, Jango. We are here to help.”

Jango’s laugh held no humour. “You expect me to believe after every Jedi they could have sent, they picked you?

“I looked for you. After I recovered. I couldn’t find you, obviously, no matter how hard I tried.”

“I am sorry for how I left,” Obi-Wan murmured, settling back against the cold metal, tipping his head back to watch the slow progression of the moon. Jango mirrored his actions after a long moment.

“So what now?”

“We get married and provide a shining beacon of hope for the partnership between the Jedi and the Mandalorians. The galaxy flourishes and peace will be maintained.”

“Di’kut. I meant with us.” Jango’s shoulders hunched for a moment before he forced himself to straighten back up. “I meant what I said, then and now. I like you, but not like that.”

“I like you as well.” Obi-Wan offered the statement up as if it was easy. “And I have no interest in ‘that’. Not anymore.”

Jango lightly bumped the back of Obi-Wan’s hand with his own, feeling the slight twitch in surprise before the other man relaxed into the gesture.

“We can make this work,” Jango promised, smoothing a thumb over the callouses that littered Obi-Wan’s hand. Obi-Wan hummed quietly, glancing over at Jango, and his eyes shone silver.

It was a simple motion for Jango to lightly bump their foreheads together like they had when they were younger. Obi-Wan grinned, the same memory occurring to him as well.

“We can make this work,” Obi-Wan echoed, squeezing Jango’s hand tight. “For everyone.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who’s read, kudos’d and commented on my fics throughout this Prompt week! I’ve had such a great time!


End file.
